RPlog:Joir in Command
Adlerson The man before you appears to be in his late forties. Spite the age he looks slender, athletic and quite strong. He stands about 6 feet tall. His face would not be classified as pretty by most standards, his nose being too big and his eyes a bit too tight together. But at the same time it radiates a charm not often paralelled. Perhaps it is the ever-present smile playing on his lips, or the glitter in his clear blue eyes, all adding up to a face looking very alive and radient. His blond hair is grey at the temples and cut very short, in acordance with Naval regulations. On his ringfinger rests a golden ring with a deep amber tint, three sparkling white gems set in it's top. He is clad in the crisp white uniform reserved for the very elite Imperial officers; The Grand Admiral. On his hands are a pair of black leather gloves, and his black boots are polished to perfection. He walks with a stride and the kind of firmness and an air of authority that is only aquired after a lifetime in the service of the Empire. His gaze looks friendly, but it also looks able to literary impale a person if the need arises. Joir This Human Male stands at just over two metres. His build is athletic, good muscle tone is evident from his fluent style of movement. Mature yet handsome facial features suggest he is in his late thirtes. His light brown hair is cut short in a stylish manner, and compliments a neatly clipped 'goatee' beard. A slight jagged scar lies under his left eye, accentuating the high aristocratic cheek bones. His eyes sparkle a light shade of grey, ruled by a quiet calculating stare. His lips are thin, held in a unconcious arrogant smile. His stance is tall, holding himself in a manner that commands authority. His actions and mannerism belie a life of military service and although the clothes he wears bear no emblems, they closely resemble the dress uniform of the Imperial Stormtroopers. A plain Jet Black high collared jacket, is complimented by matching dress trousers and are of a precise cut which accentuates the athletic frame of the wearer. Polished leather shoes and black leather gloves act with the midnight uniform to create an image of dark power. The uniformed receptionist enters the room with Joir following confidently behind. A lifelong period of military service appears to be showing through as he stand unconsciously at attention at the doorway, waiting quietly, cold grey fixed on the Grand Admiral. Adlerson looks up from his desk as the doors open, his deep eyes settling on you at once. "Welcome, Director." He switches of his work then and smile softly, extending a hand to the chair before his desk. "Please, have a seat." His being radiates power, though not physical, and demands respect. The firm and deep stare from his eyes as they settle directly on yours only serves to accentuate that. Joir meets the stare evenly, he is impressed by the Grand Admiral's confident aura, but not overawed. He nods slightly to acknowledge the Admirals greeting, before taking the indicated chair. When he speaks it is with cold practice, emotionless voice intoning "Thankyou Admiral". Adlerson settles back in his chair, the confidence and cold professionality in the man before him seemingly to his liking. The soft leather creeks as he moves, and when settles his back is actually straighter than that of the chair behind him. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Joir?" He voice is polite, friendly yet commanding. Joir reaches into his black jacket pocket and retrieves a small datapad, emblazzoned on the front is the Imperial Emblem, written underneath in cobalt blue the words: Bureau of Operations. He places the small datapad on the desk in front of him, sliding it forward so that the Admiral and access the information. "I have recieved some *disturbing* reports about the stability of the Bureau of Operations" Joir stops, taps the desk as if carefully phrasing the next words "Rumors which need to be dealt with..." Adlerson regards you with the same intensity he allways does, for a few more heartbeats, his eyes shifting then to the pad. He doesn't need to look at the pad though, his eyes quickly back at yours. "I trust this has something to do with Lord Atrox?" A bushy eyebrow is lifted to underline the question. "Is it only that, or more?" Joir 's eyes do not leave Adlerson's, forming an intense, continuous link between the two men as the face each other. "Lord Atrox is my main concern, however.." his impassive mask breaks into a grim smile "My own role has now come into question also". Adlerson sits impassive in the chair, and if it wasn't for the moves caused by his breathing and the changes in his face it would appear he was just a brilliant statue sitting before you. "There have been a few changes in the BofO as of late. I am not 100% updated on what the Emperor is doing with it, but from what I gather Lord Atrox is no longer in command of the BofO. Which leaves you to act as a leader for the branch until a new Diretor is apointed." He pauses then ads, "Of course, as I said I do not know the whole truth behind this, but this much I do know." Joir shows no reaction to the news that he is in command, if he is pleased by the added responsibility a lifetime of hiding his emotions comes into play as his face remains impassive. When he speaks though his voice contains some passion, obviously his feelings deep enough to crack through the wall of control "The Emperor must be obeyed, I will serve him to the best of my ability "We know you will." the Admiral's cryptic reply is. "If there is nothing else then?" Again a bushy eyebrow is lifted as he looks directly into your eyes. Joir shakes his head, before standing stiffly to his feet. It appears that he is about to salute out of habit, however catches himself before raising his arm too far. He nods to the Adlerson, "No, thank you Admiral" Adlerson returns the half-salute with a curt nod of himself, all his military precission and tact concentrated into that one little move of his head. "That would be all then." He follows you with his eyes until you are out the doors, then goes back to his work. Joir in Command